


Lies In Darkness

by CamCamx3



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Rating May Change, but gosh darnit i'm writing a reaper/omc fic if it kills me, dark?, i know what i'm thinking but let's see how that goes lmao, lots of things could change actually, maybe also soldier/omc 'cause hot diggity dog, now i have an editor so yayyy, other chars to come along, tbh shit might hit the fan if i go where i'm thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7385443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CamCamx3/pseuds/CamCamx3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up, Zacharias Muelbroek is a prestigious child of great worth and wealth; a perfect child living a perfect life. Unbeknownst to Zacharias, the life he lives is far from perfect, far from what he believes it is, and only what lies in the darkness of the unknown knows the truth.</p>
<p>Now edited by a wonderful friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on such a bad fix for some good and dark stories lately, and OC ones at that. Like I get it, people wanna do the do with Tracer but omfg does it get boring - and slightly annoying - to have so many OC-fics dedicated to chasing her (pun intended). So, obviously, I had to just write something to fill my fix and I'm gonna do my best to sate my desire while simultaneously providing an engaging story, hopefully(?). Comments, questions, reviews, stuff like that is always rad and wanted, so wheeeee see ya maybe regularly~.

Sometimes, the truth is more damning than the lies that cover it up.

* * *

 I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, a prodigious child with bounds of expectations planted firmly upon my adolescent shoulders. The two parents who reared me took it upon themselves to thoroughly provide the utmost support and help a growing child could ever need; all I had to do was ask and I would receive. I lived with a golden platter in front of my face at all times, with only the most skilled and pure hands gracing my presence. I saw the faces of servants and aides more than I saw my two parents, it seemed.

Living this way shaped me. I developed such profound ideas of self-confidence and egoism, which only led to a grander expansion of those two feelings. It became well-known to everyone when I developed further I was far beyond the expectations and abilities of an average child. My two parents were ecstatic to see my progress, and proceeded to reward my being with more monetary affection. Nothing was impossible for me, it seemed.

I never felt the need to socialize with others, as they never proved near capable of the same feats I was, or even lesser feats generally speaking. I was superior, not just in an egotistical way, but in actual superiority; I was surpassingly intelligent and physically-adept for my age (which was boasted and praised by near any aged person that came to know of me). My own characteristics, both inwardly and outwardly, led me to live a life completely lacking in friendships with my peers, but a more fulfilling and intellectual connection with knowledgeable individuals filled that void. I spent most of my days furthering my own abilities, and discussing the concepts and proofs of subjects far beyond what I was supposed to be taught. I was a perfect child, capable of everything, it seemed.

Life came so easy. Childhood blurred into becoming fully aware of my surroundings, fully aware of the world in a broader view. I came to understand that my two parents weren’t so prominent in my life because of their work. They spent their lives putting research and experimentation into some confidential topic, one they kept lock and key to everyone, including me. That confidentiality sparked a hunger I did not have before, one so unsated and desired that I was tunneled into discovering what they found so necessary to hide. I’d never been deprived of something I wanted. I wasn’t going to let even my own two parents stop me from getting what I wanted, it seemed.

This, this is where I discovered I was better off not being so damn privileged.

* * *

I prodded and begged to my two parents on countless occasions to disclose the topic of their research, even a hint or clue to what they only discussed behind closed doors. Despite the confused and questioning looks I would receive for my actions, they never dared utter a single word about the topic besides “We can’t tell you, we’re sorry.” That phrase became a mantra of theirs, and it continued into my teenage years. I began to resent my two parents, having given me everything only to deprive me of this one small, insignificant thing. My resentment only grew more so as time went, their absences becoming longer and more frequent, declaring they had to “look into errors that came up in their research.” 

Whatever they were doing, whatever they were hiding, seemed to be growing exponentially out of control. In the rare instances where they were home, they remained locked up in their bedroom, only opening the door to accept food or something they had asked for from a servant. If I ever caught a glance of their faces from beyond that door, it was like they had aged several years since the last time I had seen them. I had few conversations with them, often them brushing me off and saying they were too tired to talk, or again that mantra of “We can’t tell you, we’re sorry.” 

Eventually, I became so enraged by the continuous disregard for my desire, my unsated hunger for this information, that I blew up on my parents when they began to leave again, suitcases in hand. “What is it you’re not willing to tell me?! Why is it so damn important that I can’t know what you - my own two parents - are doing?! What is it!?” 

My outburst startled both my parents and the staff nearby; I had never once raised my voice in such a way. They just stared at me, bewildered, until eventually my father, a tall man with brown, greying hair and a clean face, breathed a sigh, his stance slouching with the breath. “Do you… Do you really want to know? Once you know, you won’t feel the same way you do now about who you are after…”

He ghosted those words from his mouth. Finally, finally I could find out what I had been craving for so long. My eyes lit up with excitement and desire, causing my two parents to shift uncomfortable. The suitcases the two had were then given to the servants asking them to return the suitcases to their room. I was confused, more so when the servants acted like this was normal and left with the cases, my parents, visibly nervous, remaining by the door.

“If that is what you want, then follow us,” My mother said as she slowly turned, her auburn hair rippling down her back with the movement. Her short strides were quickly followed by my father’s long ones, and I rushed to keep up. I thought they were leaving, and yet they were simply guiding me through the house? Did they keep records of their research in the house? No, that couldn’t be, I had checked everything we had…

Without warning, my two parents stopped, facing a plain wall of a hallway that split off left and right. I still hadn’t fully come to comprehend what was going on, but my father turned to me and asked again if this is what I wanted, to which I, reluctantly, said yes. It began to feel like whatever I was diving into was far beyond my understanding, and as my original excitement began dying off, I realized that I had no chance of coming back out the same. With that last thought, the wall pushed back and exposed a metal doorway with a keypad slightly off to the side. My mother tapped away and the door opened, revealing that it was an elevator rather than the door I initially believed it to be. It hummed to life and my mother entered, turning back to look at my father and me uneasily. My father soon followed after her, leaving me the only one still standing outside, a growing fear of what lie ahead becoming more apparent, only to have it grow ten-fold as I placed myself inside the elevator.

The doors closed and a dim darkness covered us as it felt like we descended. There was no exchange of words among myself and my two parents, with only the hum of the elevator being conceivable. It wasn’t until a slight thud and the fade of the hum that my father opened his mouth to speak.

“This is what you asked for. Know from this point on that your whole life was a lie.”  

* * *

After that, all I remember is running as fast I could from the home I once lived in, now burning to the ground, and the taste of blood in my mouth and tears trailing down my face. There was no going back, he was right, and now I knew that.

Sometimes, what lies in the dark is better off being not shown the light of day.


	2. One: The Beginning of Something Dark

Life isn’t always about the heroes or the beacons of light. No, sometimes it’s about the monsters that stalk from the shadows.

* * *

Following the revelation and tragedy of my once elegant style of living, I took refuge next to a dumpster in the inner parts of the city. What a drastic change my life had gone through in just a matter of hours, and here I was, wallowing in hindsight and despair. The only one to really blame for this was myself. I  couldn’t let it eat away at me cause me to throw away this life I was given.

With a huff, I took count of what I had on me, noting with relief that I had grabbed my wallet in my haste. At least I would be able to access money if need be. As I was going through my other pockets, footsteps resounded through the alleyway. Lifting my head to find the source of the sound, a gruff voice rang out.

Three men, likely in their mid-twenties, slowly made their way towards me, with the one in front speaking to me with a jeer, "Well, boys, what do we have here? A fancy boy!" He sauntered towards me, casually flipping a knife between his fingers before pausing. A look of recognition crossed his face and he smirked, his tone becoming even more taunting as he continued, "If it isn't the prestigious Zacharias Muelbroek himself! Seventeen with the knowledge and prowess of an already grown and experienced man." He looked back at his companions, both of which had donned a malicious aura, with a sly grin before saying, "Such a shame that you're all alone and far from home, kid.".

Great, people knew what I looked like and who I was, or at least what I was. “What exactly do you want from me? I don’t have any money on me,” I spat, hoping to muster a façade of intimidation and hide that I wasn’t in a vulnerable state. In response I got a bellowing laugh as the center man grasped his sides; my attempt futile in dissuading the situation. I began to rise, hoping maybe I could put some distance between us while he was immersed in his chuckle, only to have the knife hurled at my face. The knife grazed my cheek, blood freshly pouring out, and stuck cleanly into the dumpster’s side.

“Oh no no no, you’re not getting away with that; you’re loaded. You’re not leaving without giving us something, or you’re just not gonna leave at all,” the center man threatened. I didn’t reply to him, which sparked an annoyed snort from him. “Fine then, have it your way. Get him boys.” With that command, the two men behind him began approaching, both drawing knives. Although it wasn’t the time to think about it, with the advancements in technology it was quite primitive for these men to still fight with knives of all things.

Shaking my head, clearing my mind of nothing but survival, I yanked the knife that was thrown at me previously, a firm grasp around the small leather handle,  giving myself at least some protection. The blade was heavy and short. It was likely  a knife meant for solely throwing; luckily I had learned a few things about combat while I was off learning to my heart’s content. With a quick glance and a swift movement, I flipped the knife to hold the blade between my thumb and index finger, and projected the knife towards the man on the right.

The knife flew true, striking the man right in the soft part of his throat, a surprised gargle coming from the man. The man on the left, now extremely taken back by my actions, failed to notice my movements to grab the knife of the fallen man; this one definitely meant for stabbing or slashing. With equally swift cuts, the man fell writhing in pain, and I stood above the now two fallen men to look straight on at remaining man, a sickening grin spreading across my face. He gave a small yelp with my stare, his visage of maliciousness now replaced with that of utter terror.

“W-what… What are you?” He stuttered, slowly backing away from the scene of blood and death. With each step he took back, I took one forward, and as he took a chance at turning to run I hurled the knife into his back. A satisfying thud followed, and I approached him, squatting to grasp the knife firmly in his back. I heard his pleas to spare him, but I didn’t care. Threaten an animal with nothing to live for, expect only one to leave alive. His pleas became drowned out as I glided the knife up along the point of impact. Oh, the screams and shrieks he made before he passed out from the pain were orchestral.

Without warning, I recoiled. Had I been enjoying what I had just done? I looked back to look at the other two men, one still cursing as he bled out on dirty concrete and the other limp, lifeless. My hands suddenly came into view, blood slick and wet on my right while my left was absent of any traces of conflict. And yet I felt more emotion – was it pride? – and connection with my right hand. The blood seemingly called me towards it. Unconsciously my right hand came closer to my face, the smell of blood pungent and filling my senses. Suddenly, almost without realization, the taste of blood suddenly crossed my tongue as I placed my fingers in my mouth.

I didn’t feel repulsed, like one would expect. The taste was thrilling and enticing, enthralling me to rid myself of the red stains personally. I felt empowered and sated as if blood was a hidden craving my body yearned for or perhaps a high-quality narcotic. I had conquered what opposed me, and now I drank in the nectar of battle like it was fine wine.

With my sudden animalistic actions over, I took to scavenge what little weaponry the men had on them. I took the knife of the now unconscious man that had seen no bloodshed, a sheath found on his hip, and a pouch containing several throwing knives on the last man. One last glance over of the bodies, and I took towards the light of the city, hoping to rid myself of this experience.

Unknown to me, an individual hidden in the shadows would not forget what had happened. 

* * *

I spent the rest of the day looking for a relatively safe place to reside for the night. There was no need to go anywhere exquisite or posh, just a place with a clean bed and hot water. I ended up finding a small, family-run hotel that was more than happy to have a resident, even if it was temporary. It wasn’t long before the family struck up a conversation about where I had come from and where I was going.

“I’m from just outside the city-limits, small house in the forest. I’m headed out to wander the country for a while,” I lied. The family was oblivious to who I was. Good. I didn’t need more hassle over who I was known to be. Although, I didn’t have the chance to escape the stares of the fresh cut along my cheek. “Oh this? Just a cut from being out in the forest; branches can be quite dangerous if you’re not paying attention, haha.”

The family seemed to buy it, and it wasn’t until after asking if I could be excused to my room that they realize they hadn’t shown me it yet. With embarrassed haste, a girl of relatively the same age as me accompanied me to my room. It was quite cozy, the bare necessities about all that could really fit in the room, and a small bathroom with a shower. As the girl closed the door, she bid me a goodnight along with knowledge that if I needed anything, there would be someone at the front desk.

I immediately crashed on the bed, my eyes sliding closed as the mattress groaning in response. It felt blissful to finally be able to relax after such a long day, after all that… happened. With that thought, the bed suddenly felt hard and uncomfortable, my skin starting to crawl from the sheets. Everything just felt wrong all of a sudden, all the things that had happened because of my hand. I curled into a ball, so engulfed in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear the door to my room open and close. A presence became apparent but I didn’t look to acknowledge it.

“Now now, Zacharias, don’t act so sullen.” The presence spoke gently. I was startled out of my thoughts as I stared up at the person standing over me in surprise. But there was something off. The presence standing before me was almost like a shadow, darkness cascading over their human-like physique as if it were a cloak. The voice sounded familiar as well, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint where I knew it from.

“You know you did what you had to do Zacharias, there’s no mistaking that; those men shouldn’t have dared mess with you. But that’s not what I’m here for,” The presence spoke softly, shifting to sit along the edge of the bed. Then its voice turned mocking, “I’m here about what you did beforehand, what led you to curl up so pathetically into a ball: your true life.”

I sat up quickly, trying to make eye contact with this person who seemed to know too much about me. There was no way anyone could have survived what happened, nor had it been reported yet. Even then, a news report wouldn’t have anything about who I really was.

“Don’t get so wrapped up in thought,” The presence snapped, bringing me back to attention. “You know what you did, I know what you did, but what really concerns the two of us is what you’re going to do from now on. You’re much more than everyone thinks or knows. Yes, much more.”

“I’m a monster!” I uttered in disgust, my anger barely holding back. Whoever this was, they knew too much. “There’s nothing you can say that will change that.”

“Oh, my sweet, naive Zacharias, the world needs monsters every now and then. Who do you think hunts the undeserving? The guilty? Do you think that heroes do that? Do you think heroes aren’t monsters?” The presence questioned gently, with what seemed like a hand cupping my chin.

“You’ve got a lot to learn Zacharias. About this world and about yourself, but I know you’ll be able to figure it out. You’re the beginning of something new.”

And with that, I awoke with a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna change the rating now since I acknowledge I really do want to go into some detail about things. Well, and later things if you catch my drift ayyeee. Also is being foreshadow-y and ending with cliffhangers my thing? I'm not sure yet, but probably. Anyways, comments, questions, reviews, you know, the usual, super cool and wanted. See ya maybe regularly~


	3. Two: Awakening a Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depictions of violence in this chapter so if that's not your thing, uhh, yeah.

To conquer monsters, one must become a monster themselves.

* * *

“ _You’ve got a lot to learn Zacharias. About this world and about yourself, but I know you’ll be able to figure it out. You’re the beginning of something new_.”

Those words reverberated through my mind as it raced to process what had just happened, the voice still so familiar yet still so unknown. I took in my surroundings; I was still in the small hotel room, the bed firmly underneath me and the door locked. I was atop the sheets just as I had remembered, slightly askew from tossing and turning perhaps. There was no presence besides my own, but something felt off in the air. No, it wasn’t that something was off, it was that the air was filled with the smell of… death.

I jumped to my feet, ignoring the blur that invaded my sight as I ran for the door, the lock clicking audibly before I swung it open. It didn’t take long for me to find the source of the familiar smell. There before my eyes was the body of a girl. The very same girl who had shown me my room. Her body was slumped against the opposite wall, blood pooled around her on the floor. Multiple bullet wounds accented her lifeless body, and across her throat a slit spanning edge to edge. It was most likely added after shooting her, a mark of the deed.

I stared on in disgusted outrage, and my eyes went to look down the hallway towards the lobby. A trail of bloody footsteps that originated from the pooled blood of the girl. I followed them, only to be met with more grim scenes of mutilation and death. Limp across the front desk was the man I assumed to be the father, his right hand savagely cut from his wrist and bathed in blood next to him. In another hallway, a woman lie motionless, her shirt’s back ripped away revealing bullet wounds connected by gashes in some kind of sick connect-the-dots. To finish it off, the body of a boy, probably no younger than 15, pinned to the wall with a message carved into his chest.

“ _DON’T BREAK PROMISES_ ”

Whoever had done this had personal, twisted reasons to do these deeds. This wasn’t random or compulsive, they had targeted a family, a family with so much life and happiness, with no remorse. Those thoughts brought me to feel intensely primal. The urge to kill whoever had done this, to bring them as much harm as they had done, and give this family the revenge they deserved.

“ _Do you think heroes aren’t monsters?_ ” a voice whispered in the back of my mind.

“No, they are.” 

* * *

I spent days trying to find any kind of lead on who might have caused the deaths of the first people who had shown kindness to me since my life had changed. When the news first covered the incident, they had related it to several similar cases of small businesses and brutal murders, the police offering no aid in the situation. It appeared that this was a recurring scenario, probably some gang or corrupt organization pandering off weak prey. And yet, no one seemed to have any clue about a group that would enforce such strict, convoluted agreements. I wasn’t going to get any real information from commoners; I had to get into the underground source of information.

I decided, in my best hopes to make my identity less recognizable, I would have to ditch my normal attire and look for something different, and possibly get a better arsenal to protect myself with. I opted to purchase an entirely black wardrobe: black jeans, black shoes, black hoodie, even a backpack (guessed it, in black), something to not scream wealthy and somewhat iconic Zacharias Muelbroek. Although knives had felt exhilarating in the minor skirmish I’d had before, protection-wise it wasn’t enough and a small pistol made its way into my arsenal, as well as several more throwing knives of a more dignified and deadly variety. I kept the long knife I had taken from one of the men as a memento, and just in case I might have to go into close combat.

I took to dyeing my once blonde hair into a dark brown and shaving the sides off. The only thing that still showed any sign of me being who I was before would be my face. Several piercings eventually donned my skin, from the side of my nose to along the edge of my ears, even an eyebrow piercing. To finish off the transformation, I bought fake black-rimmed glasses – much to the optometrist’s dislike – that doubled as sunglasses. Thoroughly, I was a different person, outwardly and inwardly.

Taking back to the streets, it wasn’t too hard to approach shady areas with the intent to extract information. Usually the wave of a few credits and the flash of sharp steel was enough of an incentive to cooperate. The first few sources gave dead ends, either from being outdated or being outright lies, which didn’t help my case or my mood. After repeats of these pointless chases, I’d had just about enough. 

* * *

The poor guy that endured my frustration wasn’t much of a tough guy. His lengthy and lean physique didn’t put up much resistance to the edge of a cold blade to the throat while he was pinned to a wall, hanging from the hold I had on his shirt.

“OK OK! I’ll tell you what I know…! Just, put me down and put the knife away.” He whimpered, compliance showing through the fear in his eyes. I let him slide down the wall before I let him go, the knife only moving to my side as I glared at him. He fiddled with his collar and rubbed his throat while scanning the small alley we had ended up in, maybe in hopes of escape. After a moment, he sighed in surrender and nervously looked back to me.

“All I know is that they go by the name _Promise_ , in relations to how they ‘promise’ to protect you if you promise to pay, but they’re just extorting money out of harmless people. And, well, when those people find out, they stop paying… and you know what happens after that.” He made a motion across his throat to signify death. Oh, I knew what they did, and I was going to ensure that it was going to end one way or another.

“Got a location, a headquarters? A relative base of operations or hideout?” I asked, flipping the knife in my hand, the blade glinting from the small sources of light that permeated into the alley. I could see he got more visibly shaken as the knife came back into view, his eyes darting between me and the knife.

“I… I don’t know.” He muttered, beginning to mess with the right sleeve of his shirt. There seemed to be a tattoo hidden underneath the sleeve, a word of some sort. Started with a… a ‘P’.

I grasped him by the collar and slammed him back into the wall again, yanking the sleeve up with my other hand. Across his arm read the word _Promise,_ and a death-glare met his eyes.

“You don’t know, huh? Well... let’s just see how that holds up, shall we?” I growled, my knife slowly drawing lines across his abdomen. I could feel him tense underneath the point, squirming to break free of my grasp to no avail. His face showed no signs of talking, but fear was plastered across his face. I took that as a challenge to break his will.

The blade cut clean and slow through his shirt and skin, his hisses of pain like music to my ears. The act of inflicting pain on him, a man that I had sworn to kill, was intoxicating. This was the thrill of the hunt; oh God, was I going to enjoy this. Although he hissed in pain, not a word left his mouth and I glided the knife deeper, causing his screams to break the air like shattering glass.

“Fine! I’ll tell you what you want, please just… stop…” he whimpered, sweat and tears starting to accumulate on his face. I dropped him from my hold, his body slumping to the ground and curling from the pain. “We work out of a small store in the slums called _Belofte._ Just say you’re there to make a promise with the boss, they’ll let you in.”

As he spilled the information like I had his blood, and I could only laugh at the originality of the front’s name. _Belofte_? Promise in Dutch? Really keeping it inconspicuous. After my little side-tracking, I looked back to see him staring up at me, confused.

“I told you what you wanted.”

“That you did.” I answered plainly, starting to make a few movements with the knife.

“Are you going to leave me here to die or let me go?”

With that, I laughed again, a hearty and full laugh. His confusion only grew more so, but as I kept up my laughter, it quickly turned to fear. Once I was done, I kicked him once, then twice, in the proximity of the cut. The alley filled with the screams of pain and agony, but no one would ever come to help him. Bystanders wouldn’t bother anyways out of fear of their lives, what with crime and murder being so common in this part of the city.

He curled into a tighter ball, hoping to block some of the pain I might inflict on him, but that only encouraged me more to give him the pain he deserved. I kicked him onto his stomach, his cries growing louder in desperation. Pinning him to the ground with my own weight, I drew several of my throwing knives and took pleasure in slowly stabbing them into his back, each drawing out a longer cry than the last. I gleefully started connecting the knives with small and swift cuts, wanting to get the most out of his consciousness. Eventually he stopped pleading, only making low sobs of pain. His face was glossed with tears and sweat.

Grabbing the larger knife, I decided it was time to end this man’s poor excuse of a life. With one fell swoop, I chopped the man’s right hand off. His cry only lasted a moment before he slipped into unconsciousness, eyes closing in pure pain and mouth agape. I removed the throwing knives from his back, rolled him over, slit his throat from edge to edge, and carved a warning to all that would see his body.

“ _I’M A MONSTER I PROMISE_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay dark themes and actions. Tbh it felt weird at first to write some of this stuff, but in the end it's kinda fun? That's probably not the right word, but whatever. ANYWAYS, there's gonna probably be one more chapter about backstory and stuff, and then we get into the actual Overwatch stuff so yay! I'm ready to start relationship building with hot, super-human dads, hope you are too. Comments, questions, reviews, ya know the drill, always wanted and appreciated. See ya maybe regularly~


	4. Three: Promised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence! But some crucial-ish character info, so yeah.

Life promises nothing.

* * *

I felt numb walking out of the alley. All the pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting together and there was only one more piece, the centerpiece, to this twisted picture: the death of all who called _Belofte_ a home. I didn't search long before _Belofte_ came into view, and it held true to the description that the now dead man gave. The paint was chipping in chunks along the exterior, the glass dirty and scratched along the entrance.

Standing in front of what would soon become a bloodbath sent a hard shiver down my spine. Not a shiver of cold or anxiety, but rather a shiver of pure delight. The numbness I had felt before dissipating as urges to just rush in and slash and maim all that resided took over. I shook my head, attempting to clear my mind of primal and irrational thoughts; I had to come out of this alive or this whole fiasco I went through was for nothing. The family would have received no peace if I died here and now.

With those final thoughts, my mind cleared and the shiver became an ache in the pit of my stomach. I backed away into nearby shadows for one last check over my weaponry when a sudden rush of power filled my being. Startled, I checked my surroundings, my body, anything that could explain this strange feeling I was experiencing. The primal ache began to growl and snarl aggressively from within, and a wave of recollection swept my vision. 

* * *

_"This is what you asked for. Know from this point on that your whole life was a lie." My father said as the elevator door opened. In response, my mother tsked, and grabbed my shoulder._

" _Everything you've lived, learned, and experienced is real; that's not a lie. But who you are… fundamentally, is where the lie begins. You're the perfection – or what we thought was perfection – of the Life Force Project. In a nutshell, you're not human, but rather a sentient collection of various energies and life forming a human-like state. You were…" she trailed off, and with that, my father interrupted._

_"You were built to be a weapon, one that could bend reality in ways that we couldn't fathom or produce. We still don't know what you're capable of, honestly, but what we do know is what lives make up your being. The lives that bound your energy together – which we call 'life force' – were all at one point assassins, tactically advanced in deception, infiltration, and combat."_

_"Now, don't think we intended to make you into some evil, vile creation. No, it's just that the only lives that could bind the energy properly were those of very specific and similar lifestyles. Assassins were the only semi-large group we could get a hold of from the UN; it was either they be put into this project or die for their crimes." My mother inserted._

_"The only problem is," my father began, "that although you yourself are sentient and in control, the lives bounding you together are still technically existing by holding you together. Putting it in perspective to being a weapon, your abilities could very well be shaped by their beings."_  

* * *

It made sense now; the thrill of the hunt, the basking of glory in the kill, the desire to watch the prey struggle in pain. My behavior was being shaped by the lives of those who bound me together. I really wasn't human, and in retrospect neither was the life force within me. We were monsters, bundled up in some Frankenstein-experiment intent on taking reality - quite literally - by the throat.

The power I felt from the shadows began to intensify, my body beginning to feel outwards in several directions. At first, the sensation was disorienting and flared a splitting headache that caused tears to flow. But as time passed, I could understand what was happening. I was feeling the pockets of shadows within the surrounding area, each pocket tugging to pull me through. The headache was getting to the point of being unbearable. I let my body be pulled into the shadows.

Passing between the shadows felt... unworldly. It felt cold, yet warm, and although there was nothing to see but darkness, I could sense that there was something out there. My body didn't feel entirely whole, but I still could feel the entirety of my body. It was like I was nothing but I was all.

And with that, I fell face-first onto flooring. The pain of the impact bloomed across my face, but the headache was gone at least. Rubbing my nose, hoping it wasn't broken or bleeding, I looked around to find I was in some kind of room. I really wasn't sure where I was, but no one seemed to be around. I stood up to quickly look over what filled the small room I was now in. A table stood in the center of the room, stacks of money and paper scattered along the top, and chairs haphazardly tossed around the table. A few lockers and trunks lined one wall, with nothing much on the other walls except for what seemed like a banner strung from the ceiling. As I walked closer to get a better view in the dark room, light invaded the small room.

A man stood in the doorway. "What was that sound?” He wondered aloud before his eyes settled on me. “Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?!" he exclaimed in sudden anger.

"Uhhh," was all I could muster in my confusion as I looked to the large, shirtless man. He was roughly built, and dustings of hair littered his chest and face. Although, those weren't really important as the man closed the distance and the barrel of a gun ended up in my face. Slightly taken aback, I glanced sideways to avoid staring at the intrusive view of the gun, my eyes landing on the now visible words of the banner.

_Promise._

Whatever confusion or fear I’d had before was now completely gone, a flurry of rage and ill thought replacing it. I grabbed the man's hand and arm without hesitation before snapping his wrist backwards. A satisfying crack followed, then a cry of surprised pain as the man stepped back grasping his hand, the gun clattering on the floor.

A few questioning calls came soon after, along with hurried footsteps. It was now or never. Primal instincts overcame rational thought as I dived into the injured man, a knife plunging into his chest and pushing him onto the floor. In this position, I could see out the doorway where three men of similar size stood, weapons in hand. It took them longer to react than for me to adjust my position and throw several blades in their direction. Two stumbled back, handles extruding from their bodies, another took cover.

Suddenly, the man I had tackled pushed me off, my back slamming against the doorframe. Pain was rudimental in this situation, all I felt was the need to fight to the bitter end. As he forcefully scrambled to get on his feet, I took the pistol I had and shot into both of his kneecaps. The twin cracks of the gun only slightly masked the pained cries and curses of the man as he fell backwards onto the ground. I could sense the others outside beginning to stir more so than before, and as I gathered myself to stand the pump of a shotgun sounded.

The following sound blew the sense from my ears and the flare of pain overwhelming the primal urges that had consumed me. My steps stuttered in an attempt to remain standing. White hot light flared in my vision and I collapsed to the ground. 

* * *

_"Life force is what keeps a soul bound to a body. When someone dies, life force is expelled as the soul ascends from this plain of existence. Since you yourself are bound by life force, similar things could be said about you having a soul, but we're not entirely sure. What we do know is that you can take life force from others when they die to push your own capabilities into a slight overdrive. Earlier tests have shown that regeneration has been a common theme throughout, so we'll consider that as one you could overdrive."_

_"Since you were designed to fight, you would only be able to take life force from soldiers who die on the battlefront. It's morbid, but you have to survive one way or another if your capabilities don't meet the hypothesized expectations we have. It's better for someone else to die than yourself, remember that."_  

* * *

As I lie there on the floor, blood beginning to heavily pool around me, I could feel a presence. It wasn't a presence like a person or an animal, but a presence of life. Was this what they meant by expelling life force? Was I now expelling life force as I died here, a pathetic realization of my own mistakes to be some kind of monstrous hero? I wasn't sure.

My hand reached out in instinct to cling on to something, hoping to keep my hold on this world for just a bit longer. The feel of blood slipped between my fingers, my own blood perhaps. But with surprise, I could feel life spring through my fingers and my vision began to clear. Questioningly, I looked to where my hand lay; there, in a pool of blood next to me, was the man I had first encountered here. His body was still, and even though I couldn't feel him, he seemed growingly cold.

It came to me; he had died just now. Lucky for me, unlucky for him of course, but his life force was now surging through me. The pain I felt was starting to dissipate and I could feel my body begin to reform and stitch itself back together. I was healing from a fatal wound through hyper-regeneration, but I didn't have time to think about it much longer.

I sprang to my feet, the wound fully closing, and I readied myself for the last few men. The man who had nearly killed me now stood back-turned, congratulating himself on his job well done. Well, it wasn't really a job well done anymore, was it?

He began to laugh, his shoulders bouncing in response, as I grabbed the knife from the dead man's chest. He was completely oblivious to me as I walked forward towards him, knife primed and ready to sink between his shoulder blades. The terrified calls of the other men began to break him out of his stupor, but not fully before the point of the knife made its impact. The blade sunk into his back like putty, and with a hefty push downwards the blade carved into his back, his screams of agony replaced his thunderous laugh. Once the hilt of the knife was at the lower part of his back, I kicked the hilt farther into his body, sending him toppling over.

The other two men, who still had the throwing knives extending from their bodies, frantically tried to grab for their weapons. One met the swift throw of a cold blade to the eye, the other two more to the chest. The collective screams of the two men cluttered the air for several moments, before I decided it was time to turn them off. The man who had shot me, somehow still conscious and breathing, looked at me with utter horror as I carved away at his men, my eyes showing no emotion.

"Wh-who a-are y-you… What are you?" the man choked, blood splattering from his mouth with each word. I looked to him, my eyes showing my attempt to understand his question.

"Is it not clear?" I asked, standing up and stepping over one of the bodies, multiple knives grasped in my hand. Blood dripped from the tips of each knife as I walked towards him, blood splashing underneath my shoes. I squatted next to him, grabbing the hilt of the knife buried in his back while fully analyzing the suffering in his eyes, the dread of what I might do to him.

"I'm a monster, just like I _promised_ ," was all I said before I twisted the knife in his back, pulled it out, and slammed the blade as hard as I could against the base of his neck. 

* * *

The bell jingled as I left the store, a simple "Thank you" sign plastered on the door. I laughed as I crossed the street, bystanders looking in fear at my blood-soaked appearance, and disappeared into the shadows.

Maybe, this life of mine isn't so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO, backstory over for the most part (as in no more chapters dedicated to purely that), and hot dads will be incoming next chapter. Yay!! Thanks to all the people who have left kudos and have read the story so far, really rad guys. If you have any questions, comments, reviews, send 'em my way! I don't bite (too hard, at least)! That's all for now. See ya maybe regularly~


	5. Four: Rise of Twin Colossuses

As one force rises, another must rise to oppose it. 

* * *

Following the events after my drastic change of life, I decided to embrace the reality of my being. I was never intended to live a normal life, so why try to make myself human and void myself of my true capabilities? Drawing life from the people who called themselves monsters was what I felt so called towards. They weren't true monsters, I was.

Life became a blur of travels, assassinations, murders, and mastery. I didn't stick to one place for long, unless I had a lot of work to do. Amidst all of this, I took to marking at least one victim, carving the word “Promise” into their skin. It was a reference to both the promise that I would bring death to them, as well as a personal reminder of _Promise,_ the organization I had destroyed.

Sometimes I would do things for money, but as I came to fully understand my capabilities, I found that I required little or no sustenance for survival, and I'd often do missions for no charge. Life force became a common feast and rejuvenation for what appetite I might succumb to, and there was plenty to take. A strange affinity towards blood also became normal, often indulging in the taste and feel.

It became apparent that continuing on this bloody, dangerous path would require a much more protective attire than a rebellious teenager's wardrobe, although, the color black did stay prominent. Various leather, Kevlar gear, and cybernetics that I purchased from sources combined into a protective but versatile suit that kept long to mid-range assailants at a lesser threat, while at the same time kept me weaponized and mobile. Throughout the suit were outlets for knives to be dispensed or be accessible to my hands in case of fast-paced combat, and the cybernetics pushed my human form to higher levels. I abandoned the original large knife for its lack of quality; it didn't go straight through bone as well as I thought it would (not to mention that I had left it in that guy's neck, so…).

Each mission I embarked on turned into a training mission for my capabilities. I learned how to weaponize the darkness. I discovered that the more darkness – the more shadows in an area– that I had access to, the more opportunities there were for quick and easy deaths, entry, and escape. I decided to call it "shadow walking," and it became a vital part of my kit. With one mastery, came another. Shadow walking led me to discover that I could seek shelter momentarily within the shadows and my own regeneration was heightened as well. However, the action was very limiting and I couldn't shadow walk for a certain period of time after. I rarely used the ability in combat, and the feeble excuses for life I hunted rarely held any sort of strong opposition.

Rumors spread throughout the country, and soon the world, about "Death's Shadow." The name always brought me joy as it showed I was so feared. From what I was once known for – intellect, achievements, wealth – it was a surprisingly refreshing change, and I could feel my inner beings thrive in the glory. Despite the growing problem the world faced, deemed the "Omnic Crisis," my name stayed prominent in people's minds.

As time went on and the Omnic Crisis raged alongside, I kept hearing a name. This name was supposed to represent the perseverance of humanity, a rising colossus of hope. I didn't take much interest in the name, but it held itself firm in my mind.

"Overwatch."

This adventure of mine went on for a little over three years, and with each passing day my previous life fell into obscurity. I became what people feared me for: death. If anyone had come to truly know me as I became the monster I had once ironically called myself, they would say that I was a highly-functioning psychopath. Honestly, I wouldn't have disagreed. More than anything, I only felt alive when I was killing or basking in the agony and torture of my prey.

I started putting myself in more life-threatening and difficult missions. There wasn't much regard for my own being as I took life after life, my reliance on life force growing as I spiraled deeper and deeper into a shadowy colossus of death. My time in the shadows grew longer and longer as wounds that would kill any normal person littered my body and suit. My bending of reality through intense regeneration proved to be more useful than originally perceived; not only was my own body able to regenerate, but I could repair and replenish my suit and arsenal. This knowledge pushed me over the edge of humanity. 

* * *

It was a feeling of nothingness that eventually consumed me, and that's where I slipped up. I disregarded any ounce of safety I might want to take on missions, my power much too grand for any forces one could fathom to accumulate. I went on mission after mission, beginning to only wait for my body and suit to regenerate to the point of functionality. I became increasingly sloppy, and I guess that's when the trap was set to move in.

I took up a mission from a new informant, some British girl with hair all over the place, her overly chipper attitude disturbing for working in this kind of business. She told me I'd be going on an assassination of multiple figure heads of families that embezzled money during the Omnic Crisis, increasing their wealth ten-fold. I growled in aggravation at the thought of self-improvement while such a crisis raged on. If I had caught the mischievous shine in the eye of the informant, maybe I would have felt that something was off.

Infiltration held little opposition, and as I walked the marble hallways I sensed for some kind of life. There were several presences of life, but I couldn't pinpoint their locations, nor could I count how many exactly. I chuckled; perhaps the growing fear had led people to fill their quarters with light to the point of no shadows. It was foolish really, light wasn't going to stop me, it just made it a little more of an annoyance.

In that moment of vulnerability, not noticing I had walked into a very open and lit area, I felt the presences converge – converge on me. I realized immediately that I was no longer the hunter, but rather was the prey. But hell if I was going to go down without a fight.

Danger blared from all directions, but the most obvious was directly above me. With a flip backwards, I nearly dodged a direct hit from what appeared to be explosives, although the blast still knocked me off balance mid-air. Landing roughly, I braced myself for more while taking in the area. I didn't have long, as a blur of blue streaked passed my sight and a harsh kick to my back sent me onto the floor in front of me. I felt a body hover over me and I rolled to avoid a torrent of bullets aimed at my previous position.

I swept my leg in the direction of the body, hearing a gasp and smack of my leg connecting with another. In a glance, I saw a yellow suit with a strange chest contraption fall to the floor, brown hair flopping around the face of the assailant. I didn't have time to care about if that was who I thought it was, knife already in hand prepped to be thrown. The sound of gunfire drew my attention away from the fallen foe for a moment, a bullet grazing my shoulder from behind. In haste, I turned and threw the knife in the possible direction of the fire. The knife flew towards a standing man with blonde hair, a visor cover his right eye, barely scratching his cheek as it sank into the wall behind him. I prepped for another to be thrown to catch him off-guard, but the flare of bullets being shot into my back drowned my thoughts. The knife flew from my hand and my foot kicked behind me, both landing their hits as the blade buried itself in the man's left shoulder.

What followed next, I wasn't sure of. My body went into an instinct-based survival mode where I didn't really think about what I was doing more so than how I was trying to survive. The area was too well lit for any form of escape to be viable, besides putting myself in one of the multiple easy to track hallways. Senses went into overdrive as my being fought desperately to keep up with the blurring blue and yellow menace and the suppressing fire of the man, with the occasional explosion either setting me up for a hit or throwing me off balance. Eventually, my body wouldn't be able to take much more, and there were still other presences besides the two fighting.

But, of all the things I expected to be surprised by in my lifetime, the sudden roar of what seemed to be a German accent in the midst of battle was definitely not one of them. Next thing I knew, what felt like several tons of force hit my injured and worn body, propelling me into a wall. I blasted through the wall, smashing into a glass table and landing poorly against the wall of the next room, debris and shattered glass extruding from my body.

The room, besides the light shining in from the large hole in the wall, was dark and I began to fall back into the shadows. However, that plan met an end as a giant metal hand grabbed my arm, hurtled me back into the open area, and a very strong stomp of a boot landed square in my chest. Through blurring and receding vision, I could see three faces. One was indeed the bloody British bitch who had given me the mission, and another was the blonde man I had been trying to not get shot by.

However, I hadn't seen the newest face, the one I assumed had his boot firmly planted and heavily pressuring my chest. He wore what looked to be all black, a black beanie covering his head, brown facial hair donning his tanned, stern face. His hazel eyes deeply bored into my green eyes. It was the last thing I saw before I thoroughly blacked out from the fight. 

* * *

Little had I known, I had brought upon myself the wrath of the colossus known as "Overwatch," and the days of my colossus state had all but fallen in its wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Overwatch time. Well, I did say hot, superhuman dads would be in this chapter, so, they kinda are. Next chapter they'll actually be more than soldiers in a fight, swear. So stay tuned for that 'cause hot damn they are gonna get focused. On the other hand, comments, reviews, questions, blah blah blah, something something. See ya maybe regularly~


	6. Five: Over and Under

Sometimes when you think it's all over, you get pushed right back under.

* * *

Now, I've woken up in some strange places before, don't get me wrong.

Learning to hibernate in shadows had its moments, especially when someone rudely woke me up by screaming in my ear about how I was "JUST LYING THERE ON THE SIDEWALK BLEEDING." That got old maybe the second time it happened, but nonetheless waking up in strange and unknown locations was never my intention, my current situation not excluding.

To be honest, I thought I was going to die. There wasn't much of a reason to keep me alive, all I did was coldly kill people with some illusionary moral high ground. Was I truthfully in the right to do what I did compared to what they had done? Maybe so, but in the eyes of the majority I was nothing more than a monster plaguing society. But to wake up here, a blindingly lit room – hell, was the floor even producing light? – in a chair with shackles tightly gripping various sections of my arms, legs, and chest, was a shocking realization.

Even more so, the exceedingly high amount of injuries I had sustained were seemingly healed, wrapped, and I was clothed in something other than my suit. As my vision began to adjust to the luminosity of the room, I could see that a large mirror lined one wall; two-way glass, I assumed. A single metal door stood directly in front of me, a simple handle adorning it. Probably locked from the outside, else why risk such an easy escape for a prisoner. The room was bare, except for my own chair and body, and the wooden table just enough out of reach.

I tested the strength of the shackles, and was rewarded thoroughly with a shock. Cool, all I can do is sit here motionless unless I want to give myself a few jolts of pain. So I sat there, waiting for something to happen, recollecting about the situation that put me in this mess. Had I not become such a god-complexed egoist that brought death where he walked maybe I wouldn't have gotten in this mess, but oh well. Hindsight's a bitch, right? 

* * *

Wallowing in the small amount of pity I had for myself, the metal door opened with several clanks and turns. Then, with a slide, both the blonde man from the fight and the tanned man walked in, the tan one opting to stand to the side while blondie brought in a chair. Two manila folders slapped against the table and the scrapping of a chair filled the room.

"Whatcha got there, huh? Kinda hard to see with all these restraints and the table being so far away," I joked, hoping maybe I could negotiate a little bit before I either: a) get my ass thoroughly handed to me by big-boy on the side; b) get my ass handed to me by golden boy; or c) was told to suck it up. I was rooting for option C, but A and B were somewhat okay too. To my surprise, blondie motioned for his associate to loosen some of the restraints, although it looked like he really didn't want to follow through on that order. Several shackles around my chest and arms were released, but the ones on my legs remained tight.

Relieved, and now able to move a little more than just my neck without electricity rushing through my body, I motioned towards the table, blondie grunted in reply as he shoved the table closer. Content with the arrangements, I thanked both men and brought my attention to the folders on the table, their contents slightly spilling out. I went to grab a folder, fuel the curiosity of what might be contained within, only to have it taken back by blondie.

"There's business to be handled here, and I expect you to cooperate accordingly. Is that understood, Muelbroek?" Blondie asserted, sliding the other folder back towards him before leafing through the first one. His eyes eventually glanced back up towards me, beaconing a response to his question.

"I mean, I don't have much of a choice, do I? And if we're gonna play the name game, at least tell me yours and your tall, dark friend over there." I answered, my thumb jerking towards the man who growled at my jest. Blondie rolled his eyes, sighing deeply, debating whether to meet your small demand or not.

"Morrison. Jack Morrison. That's Gab – " he began, but the snarl and dirty look the man gave him cut Morrison off. I chuckled at the edginess of the man; I was going to have a little fun here if he kept that act up. "Reyes, he's Reyes. You… didn't know who we were?"

I tilted my head at the question, thinking back to any meeting or exchange we might have had prior. "Not that I know of, golden boy; think I would have remembered someone like you, but I've seen a lot of faces in my time…" I said, before turning to face Reyes, eyes filled with mischief. "And I definitely would have remembered him. Something about him is so – I don't know – memorable, almost like we're connected somehow."

Whether it was what I said or the wink that followed, the response I got out of Reyes was pretty damn worth the following punch to the face, the speed and force fast and hard, a deep growl emitting from his throat. "We're not here to fuck around! If you want to treat this like a joke, I guess maybe I'll just have to do the same to you…" Reyes declared, his hazel eyes blazing with dislike.

I glanced between the two men, a smirk on my face despite the earlier punch. "Are you guys running a good-cop, bad-cop thing here? 'Cause I swear you're both –" I began to point out, but another fist met my cheek. Ok, maybe that one wasn't worth it, and I'm pretty sure he dislodged a tooth. Shaking my head to bring back the feeling in my face, Morrison had stood up and pushed Reyes back towards the wall, a stern interaction going on between them. Reyes didn't seem very pleased with my banter, and Morrison seemed to be in a similar mood. One of the manila folders hit the table, opened and letting the contents scatter across the table.

I reached to grab some of the contents, mostly pictures of assassinations or murders I had committed. A few of them depicted the bodies riddled with slashes and stab wounds, another depicted trails of blood leading into dark areas and vanishing. All of this was routine investigation photos, and I took short pride in my handiwork, reliving a few of the acts, sparking momentary excitement in my blood.

But, that was all short lived as I grabbed a set of photos bound together by a rubber band, a sticky note with the words "First Contact" scribbled across the paper. As I unbound the rubber band and removed the note, I was appalled to see photos of that dreaded first week of my new reality. Clearly taken were several shots of the bodies of the three men, shots of me going and leaving the family-run hotel, my appearance change, and even the act of me killing every member of _Promise_.

"How… How did you get these?!" I quietly pondered, my head looking down at the photos instead of the two men before me. It couldn't be, there wasn't any reasonable way these pictures existed. How…?

"The UN had you – and the whole team that worked on the project – under surveillance. They weren't going to let a project that could possibly bend reality to its will be unsupervised and unlimited in its experimentation. The UN allotted one proper product of the project to be produced, and any prior or following products would have to be destroyed." Morrison stated, his fist supporting his defined chin as he talked.

"When the team declared that you were their 'perfect prodigy' of the project, the UN was skeptical, and especially so as you grew to be exceedingly adept to everything. And when the reports were reviewed by the UN about 'unknown capabilities that may or may not be influenced by the test group,' a panic spread. It was debated whether you should be destroyed in the likely chance that you became a killing machine with no conceivable counter, but the team fought to keep that from happening, or at least they tried to until they all… died." 

* * *

The last word resounded through the now still air of the room, his deep blue eyes looking into my own. Did he know about what happened? I didn't want to accept what had happened, and I really didn't want him to outright say what I had done; it was the one thing that I felt truly sorry for. All those lives gone because of my selfish desire. I could never live that down even if I cleansed the world of wrong.

"Well," Morrison continued, "it doesn't matter how they died, but before the entire security grid went down, the UN saw you run off into the city and declared all local agents to track you down at any costs. One of them did, as you can see by the pictures, but the agent deemed it too dangerous to extract you in your current state, and a short grace period was given – to which you ironically used to disappear for three years. It became apparent after the years of terror you instilled and the method of execution that you were 'Death's Shadow.' Who would have known that you'd become just what the UN had feared: a killing machine with no conceivable counter…"

I couldn't take it anymore, and I roared in response. "Oh, so what?! Are you gonna say, 'Haha, I guess we were your counter,' huh? Are you going to rub more salt into the wounds you've made, or are you just going to keep provoking me until I lose my sanity? Are you trying to push my buttons to the limit?! What is it?" I gripped the table as the words blasted from my mouth, the wood creaking under my pressure. Morrison seemed unaffected, neutrally looking back at my outburst.

As I glared back at the glorified man, a dark chuckle rose from the mutual silence between us. I darted my attention towards Reyes, a small shit-eating grin countering his harsh face. My expression darkened further at the sight of him. His left hand slammed down on the table in front of me, his right reaching for the unopened manila folder. As he stood next to me, I couldn't help but examine the man in more detail; his body was toned under the black attire he wore, his chest and arms showing a well-rounded physique. His facial hair gave him a slight older vibe, but he couldn't have been older than thirty to thirty-five.

A snap and grunt brought my attention back to the table, the manila folder now revealing lengthy, wordy documents, several blank lines spread across the pages. "If we wanted you dead, I would have killed you already." Reyes stated, no humor coming from his words as he looked to me. "We have an offer to make, one you're better off accepting." Morrison shifted at Reyes's words, his mouth beginning to move to say something, but Reyes stopped him with a hand.

"You sign this contract, and you'll officially work under Blackwatch. The UN has explicitly stated that if you do not accept," he began, but instead ended by dragging his rough index finger along my throat.

"It would have been better to just say I would die, but I guess you really wanted to touch me, huh?" I snarked at him. Reyes stiffened at my words while Morrison muffled a series of snorts. "I know, I know, this isn't a joke, but it's becoming increasingly fun to rile you up. You’re too easy. Anyways, what exactly is Blackwatch?"

"Have you heard of Overwatch?" Morrison asked in turn.

"Heard of it, but I never cared to learn what the organization stood for besides what everyone praised it for, saviors of the Omnic Crisis or whatever." I waved my hand dismissively as I talked, only to then realize the very apparent connections. I snorted and looked at them incredulously. "Wait… You're not seriously suggesting I work for the ‘betterment’ of the world, are you? My own methods not particularly to your taste, are they?"

Reyes, again, gave a dark chuckle as he began to speak. "No. Not in the same way you ‘tried’ to. We're a little more… morally-just in our decisions. But yes, you will, but I think you'll... prefer how we operate in Blackwatch over Overwatch."

"We? As in I’ll have to deal with you on a daily basis? Sounds great..." I groaned, earning a grin from Morrison and a low sigh from Reyes. "But I've got nothing else to live for, literally and metaphorically. I'll sign." 

* * *

As I gave away my previous life of murder and solitude, I stepped foot into a new life of murder and, well, not-so-solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially, we are part of Blackwatch/Overwatch. Reyes is main focus, may be side focus on Morrison, who knows. Maybe I'll feel extra smutty towards him one day, but for now smut/character progression is intended to center on Reyes. -insert that sentence about things that are super rad- See ya maybe regularly~


	7. Six: Boss Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so cool news guys and girls: I got a friend to help edit and suggest things for the fic. As of right now, we've gone through the whole fic and reworked a few things out, but nothing major. A few things were added but they're not entirely necessary for the plot to continue, just little added details and improvements in the quality of my writing. She's super cool and she also completely endorsed (and made a few) of the comments within this chapter. Thank her for some of those if you find them funny. Anyways, enjoy!

Bosses: people you probably want to fuck over somehow, some way.

* * *

The first few days at Overwatch were some of the lengthiest I’d ever had. On the first day, I was given a tour of the facility by the blabbermouth British bitch, codenamed “Tracer,” and shit did she run circles around me. Literally. That blue streak of hers was almost perpetually there as she ran here and there along with her mouth. I think I learned more about her terrible sense of humor than where any part of the facility was.

The second day I was rudely awakened by Reyes, barking about how I had to “Go and meet the rest of Blackwatch” and “if I didn’t show up I was getting my ass beaten.” I cracked a joke about how exactly he was going to beat my ass, which he swiftly answered with a “Like this” and slugged me across the face. If this was going to be his response to all of my banter I’d have to start dodging, although he’d probably hit me harder in response.

Meeting the team was for the most part bland, but there was one guy that stuck out like a sore thumb. Donning a red poncho and cowboy hat, the suave-faced man named McCree was quite the sight to see. His accent was thickly southern and his words always getting straight to the point. And oh god did he have a sense of humor. Finally someone who would actually laugh around here. I ended up spending the entire day with McCree, swapping stories and occasionally poking fun at whoever passed by.

By the third day, it was as if knowing where rooms were and who I worked with was all I needed to know. No one came to wake me up and I ended up just sitting in the dark for what was probably hours. I hadn’t had much time to just relax in darkness since I had gotten here, and although McCree was a refreshing experience, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t until around six o’clock in the evening that someone actually came to check on me, this time by golden boy himself. There wasn’t much said between us, a few words about how I was feeling and how I was liking it here. I brushed his questions off and he parted, content with my answers. I spent the next two days in the darkness of my room simply existing.

I never thought I would miss having something to do all the time as a harbinger of death. As a Blackwatch agent, my overall objective was to instill and upkeep peace and well-being across the globe. Although, right now my objective was to sit on my ass all day, apparently. Despite having signed my life away to participate in operations, there was nothing that was needed doing. Nothing. At all.

My laziness and reclusiveness struck a nerve with Reyes by the turn of the week. Without warning, he burst into my room ruining the harmony I had achieved in solitude. “Get the fuck up and do something with your time instead of just locking yourself in your room for days,” he commanded bluntly as he threw my suit in my direction. I caught it, sentiment flowing up from my fingers as I brushed the hardened leather. Bringing my attention towards Reyes, I crinkled my nose.

“Why don’t you tell me what to do? You’re my boss after all, shouldn’t you be – I don’t know – bossing me around?” I snidely remarked. Bracing for a punch, I instinctively closed my eyes. When seconds past by and no fist had connected with my face, I slowly opened one to discover Reyes stood there just as he had been. “What? No punch for my wit? You growing soft on me, Reyes?” I questioned, testing the extent of his restraint.

Reyes scoffed in response, rolling his shoulders back slightly to emphasize his indifference. “Just get dressed and meet me outside. I’ve got a few things I’d like for you to do,” he concluded, walking out the door before I could respond. Man, I was going to tear those words apart from context completely. Oh well. Guess he’d learned better than to wait for my responses. I quickly got into my suit, noticing the addition of an Overwatch logo on the shoulder and a lack of any knives.

“Don’t trust me with sharp objects, Reyes?” I called out the door. To my slight disappointment, there was no response. I finished tightening the last harnesses of the suit and proceeded out the door. Reyes was leaning against the wall looking off in another direction. “So…” I began, grabbing his attention with the impish implications my voice gave off. “Where to? Your room, perhaps?” My eyebrows raised in anticipation for his response.

All I got was a very loud, displeased groan and a shake of his head. “Reyes, you’re no fun anymore… What happened to the good old days? Ya know, last week.” I teased while patting his shoulder. Through that small touch, I could feel how tense he was. Maybe my jokes were putting him more on edge, but I really didn’t care. It was enjoyable as hell to do, not to mention that he’s part of the reason I’m even stuck here in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter what I do, you just won’t stop spewing that shit. Just… Come on.” Reyes grumbled distastefully. He began walking off down the hallway, without even looking back to make sure I was following behind him. Although I’m pretty sure if he had looked behind him, he would have absolutely killed me for the look I was giving him.

* * *

After a few minutes of walking, we arrived at a spacious area outside with various platforms and walls seemingly placed about randomly. Atop the tallest platform, the sun shining directly into my eyes, the silhouette of what looked to be a person sat. There was a slight breeze, and a green ribbon swirled around the silhouette.

“Oh, so you like it outdoors, huh? And who’s that, a friend of yours? Is he just watching or is he joining in? Either way, you’re into some weird shit, Reyes.” I chided smugly. That was probably the highlight of whatever I was doing. I’m pretty sure I blurred the fine line between joking and flirting a long time ago, and honestly I really didn’t fucking care anymore. Besides, it was hilarious to watch Reyes get riled up over it. One would think he's virginal what with how upset he gets sometimes. Perhaps the man doth protest too much?

My voice must have carried in the wind as the silhouette stood and leaped from the platform, landing gracefully in front of us. Before my eyes stood a… “I have no idea what that is, to be honest. Is it some kind of robot that took to looking like a ninja, or…?” I thought aloud, my actions only realized after the direct kick to my back from Reyes with enough force to make my eyes water.

“Learn some manners, god damn. _He_ is Genji, a cyborg. He’s human under all that metal plating,” Reyes harshly lectured from behind me. Wiping the tears out of my eyes – holy shit maybe I should think before I talk for once – I glanced at _Genji_. He still looked like a robot ninja.

“Sorry, sorry. Some of us actually _aren’t_ human, ya know. But you don’t see me going around correcting everyone.” I retorted sarcastically. However, my tone didn’t come off well, or maybe it did seeing as Reyes stomped his boot into my back again. “Ok, shit! I’ll stop, god damn… Just shoot me, it’ll be over faster that way…”

Reyes only raised an eyebrow and lifted his boot in response. Duly noted: no more robot ninja jokes around Reyes.

“You show little respect to those you do not know and those you do know. One who does not respect others, must not respect himself as well.” Genji taunted, his voice digital but still retained a Japanese accent. “I can only expect you will not honor your own techniques when they falter.”

I looked to Reyes, then to Genji, and back Reyes. Was he saying what I think he was saying? “Reyes, is this man shit-talking me like a monk would?” I outright puzzled. Seriously, what the fuck?

“I’m pretty sure he is, not like you don’t deserve it after what you _just_ said. Now, how about I actually tell you what you’re supposed to be doing here? And no, it is not something sexual so if you even-“ Reyes stopped himself short, breathing in deeply before exhaling. “Just spar with Genji. Your knives are over there, but no using your shadow tricks.”

I stopped midway to the bag Reyes had pointed to, turned, and deadpanned. “Why not just cut my god damn hands off while you’re at it? Those ‘shadow tricks’ are a vital part of my combat and being.”

“Too bad, don’t use them. You have to learn how to fight in situations you’re not comfortable with.”

“But…”

“No.”

“Come on, really?”

“Yes.”

“Not even a little?”

“I swear I will kill you myself if you don’t hurry the fuck up and spar with Genji. Final. Answer.”

“Alright, you’re the boss. Let’s get this started, Genji!” I said with a grin, the sudden change in attitude completely throwing both Reyes and Genji for a loop. I argue for the sake of my own enjoyment. I’m such an asshole sometimes.

* * *

I wielded a single combat knife in my right hand, preparing myself for Genji’s first move. I wasn’t really sure how this fight was going to start, but it would be shitty to let Genji get the upper hand right off the bat. Genji twirled three throwing stars between his fingers, his stance equally as cautious as my own. Suddenly, Genji threw the stars in a straight line for my chest. I had enough time to deflect the assault before realizing he had set me up for him to rush forward. So much for not letting him get the upper hand. My only weapon offered no possibility of a counterattack, so the next best thing was to pivot on my right foot and aim a kick backwards at Genji’s stomach. The kick connected perfectly, causing him to stumble backwards, giving me an opportunity to go on the assault. I leapt at Genji, blade aimed for his torso, only to have him grab my shoulders and flip over me. Slightly taken aback, I loaded a throwing knife in my left hand and threw it behind me. The edge grazed his shoulder, a “ting” resounding from the metals clashing. Throwing knives weren’t going to work in this situation besides as a distraction, and with the handicap on my shadow abilities I was increasingly limited on what I could do. I guess all only leaves me with the option of getting up close and personal.

Genji took to one of the many platforms before trying to bombard me with throwing stars. Where did they even come from?! As the fight went on with me trying to gain ground on him and him keeping me at bay quite easily, it was growing increasingly frustrating to keep this fight going. Oh, he can jump mid-air and wall climb but I can’t even think about using my own mobility tricks. This fight was so rigged, but hell if I was going to lose. I just had to focus and stop being a bitch.

Relaxing as I closed my eyes, I sensed the surrounding area. I could feel Genji’s presence, all his movements and actions, although his life force felt strangely weak but there nonetheless. Taking it all in, I dodged a flurry of stars while loading my own storm of steel, my hands gripping their respected knives.

First, I had to catch him off guard. I rushed Genji from a lower platform.

Second, I had to limit his escape. I threw my hand full of blades to the left of him.

Third, I had to attack his now panicked self. I tossed the combat knife into the air before positioning myself on a vertical wall. Quickly loading several throwing knives, I pushed off the wall while simultaneously sending the steel his way.

And finally, I had to overcome him. Although the throwing knives weren’t meant to hit him, they did accomplish their purpose of lining him up perfectly for a mid-air tackle. Our bodies collided before slamming into the ground, my combat knife stabbing into the ground besides us. Grabbing the handle I yanked the blade from the ground, intent on putting Genji into submission. However, I did not expect a short, curved blade to be at my neck when I was at his.

“Huh… I guess that’s a draw then, Genji.” I laughed, the current situation quite odd in retrospect.

“I will accept that. Your techniques were not lacking in honor like I thought they might. I should not have judged a book by its cover.” Genji apologized, his voice making it hard to tell how he felt.

“Thanks… I guess. Maybe you should learn how to talk normally every once and awhile, Genji. I might not make fun of you then.” I responded, only partially bending the truth. I was still going to make fun of him regardless for being a robot ninja, but he didn’t need to know that.

As we got up from our position, the footsteps of who I could only assume to be Reyes approached. Genji mentioned something about perhaps sparring again sometimes, but I was way more interested in Reyes. Holy Saint Mary, was the man actually… _smiling_?! Wow, okay, I have no words, not even a witty remark or something to poke fun at him. Just…

_Wow._

“That was… for a lack of better words, impressive. To go toe-to-toe with Genji is no simple feat, even if you only got a draw out of it. Hopefully you can win the next time around.” Reyes told me appreciatively, his eyes looking calmly into mine. “There are still a few more things I want you to do. Let’s get going.”

“Oh, I’ll do anything you want me to do if it means you’ll keep smiling like that. Has anyone told you you have a brilliant smile?” I said with a genuine smile, not even trying to hide the satisfaction I had right now.

And that satisfaction only grew as – for the first and optimistically not the last time – Reyes stared at me in surprise and his cheeks grew at least two shades of red darker.

* * *

Bosses: people that are maybe not so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said everything I needed to say up top. See ya maybe regularly~


	8. Seven: Defeat

No one wants to be defeated.

* * *

The moment Reyes released me from his custody of duties for the day I looked for McCree. I was so ecstatic to tell him what I had witnessed earlier that I completely forgot common courtesy and just rushed out of a shadow. The whiskey he was drinking flew dramatically from his hand as I jumped into his view, my face mere inches from his, and splashed onto the floor. A flurry of swear words escaped his mouth as he tried to recollect his composure.

"Shit kid… Could you at least give some warnin' before doin' somethin' like that? And get the hell out of my face," McCree muttered, annoyance laced alongside his accent. I chuckled a little bit as I backed out of his face. "You owe me another glass of whiskey, kid, and I sure ain't goin' to clean up the mess _you_ made!"

"Calm down, oh partner of mine. I'll mosey right down to the saloon and get you another if it'll get you to keep your cowboy britches out of a bunch," I sassed, attempting to replicate his accent. A scruff laugh followed from McCree. "Ok, was the accent good or bad? I can't tell."

"Needs a bit more drawl, but it has potential," McCree confirmed as he leaned back in his seat. He watched as I rounded the island of the open kitchen for a glass and the whiskey bottle. His rough voice broke the air as I poured.

"What's got you so excited in the first place?"

"Am I that easy to read? Thought I broke out of that habit a long time ago."

"Burstin' into my face with a smile wide as the Rio Grande… I don't know what else you might be feelin' besides excited."

"Maybe I'm just happy to see my favorite cowboy? Ever think of that?" I joked, turning to bring McCree his new glass of whiskey. Handing the glass off, I walked passed, sponge in hand, to clean up the now drying whiskey on the floor.

"Didn't think you liked me that much, kid. I ain't complainin' though," McCree answered lightly, amusement starting to bubble into his tone. "Maybe if you didn't flirt with Reyes every chance you got I might have picked up on your feelin's earlier."

"That's low, McCree. It's only every _other_ chance I get that I flirt with him," I corrected snootily, my finger rising into the air to finish the gesture. We both laughed for a good while before McCree cleared his throat. His eyes said that I should get to talking.

"You ever seen Reyes smile before?" I seriously asked. McCree pondered for a while, his human hand scratching his short beard.

"No, I don't think I've ever seen Reyes smile," he responded, his eyebrows perking slightly. "Why do you ask?"

I stood up, the floor now rid of all whiskey, and began back towards the kitchen while talking. "Then I guess I've got that one on you, McCree. Reyes smiled after he watched me spar with Genji. And can you guess the icing on that cake?" I asked, my voice getting softer as I made my back to a surprised and questioning McCree.

"He blushed at my flirting today."

The loud and extended holler McCree let out made him seem like a school girl when her BFF just said her dream boy likes her back. Then again, we did gossip and joke around like school girls, so there wasn't much of a difference between us and them.

"You've got to tell me all about it, kid. Recount it from the beginning," McCree coaxed, his eyes filled with the same excitement I had shown earlier. McCree was quite the catch, and like hell was I going to let him go any time soon.

I think everyone needs their own personal McCree.

* * *

Following my spar with Genji, it became routine to train together when time allotted itself. Genji was a formidable opponent despite looking his appearance as a robot ninja (which will forever be burned into my memory). Each day that passed I made more and more progress on being able to win against him, but it always ended up with us calling a draw. Sometimes we'd have an audience, sometimes not. It didn't really matter to me unless Reyes was there. I always tried to be extra merciless when Reyes was there, hoping to get that sweet, sweet reward of a smile on his face.

It never came.

At first it was expected. I probably couldn't impress him anymore than I already had, but it would be nice to at least receive some sort of satisfaction with my performance. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Any time he showed up to watch me spar or was passing by in one of the hallways he had his face scrunched up in a scowl. Anything I did or said just got completely dismissed or a measly grunt. God, who shoved a log up his ass?

McCree didn't know anything about his mood either and simply stated "Reyes is probably just mad you made him blush and is making up for lost time." I hit McCree on the arm for that asinine comment. He simply shrugged and asked why I cared at all what Reyes did with his face.

"I like seeing people smile, ok? I've spent years only seeing people scream in horror and shock and it's a welcomed change to see smiling faces now. Makes me feel like I'm still human..." I conceded, not wanting to hide half of the truth from McCree. The other half was that I found Reyes utterly attractive when he smiled. I was not going to pass up any opportunity to see him like that again.

I changed the subject after that and we chatted about some things going on currently until Reyes walked in. I looked towards him, on the off chance he wasn't scowling, only to be greeted by that belittling and harsh visage. I'll admit Reyes is still relatively attractive with the scowl – whether it just be his features or the accentuating scars – but it holds no weight to when he smiled.

"Stop acting like teenagers and get prepped. We got notice of a mission that needs our immediate deployment," Reyes commanded seriously, his voice sharing the same tone as his facial expression. McCree downed the last of his whiskey before standing, nodding his head in compliance. I continued staring at Reyes, my eyes examining his, until he sneered and hurriedly turned to leave.

I moved to walk besides McCree, his face now serious and void of all the fun we'd had just now. The three of us shared few words, only talking about who it was we were going after. A hostile group had been terrorizing a small town a few hours from Numbani and their base of operations was just now discovered through interrogation methods. Blackwatch was to be sent and eliminate all members of the organization.

"Finally! I get to kill again. It's been so long since I've seen and felt the ease of steel against flesh…" I smiled wildly. The primal urges that had been unsated for weeks were now roaring inside me, begging to be unleashed and devour whatever they could get their fangs on.

"We don't operate and will never operate the way you did, Muelbroek. You're part of a team now," Reyes spat, looking back to grab my collar and lift me off the ground. "Don't even think about pulling anything. Do you understand me, _pendejo_?"

* * *

The flight to our destination was a blur. I was too busy thinking about Reyes's threat, and shamelessly how flustered I got from the accent he had when speaking Spanish. Well, they do say Spanish is one of the many romance languages, but that insult sure wasn't romantic. Sometimes you have to take the small victories even if it was someone calling you a jackass in a different language.

The aircraft landed with a light thud and shake. Sounds of movement filled the subtly silent air as Blackwatch operatives collected their weaponry and supplies. I stood and checked all the knives within my suit and adjusted a strap here and there. The gruff voice of Reyes broke through the sounds.

"We move out in five to get our positioning on the compound. Stick to the plan and we'll get through this without any friendly casualties," said Reyes. The other operatives began filtering out of the carrier while McCree came to stand next to me. Fortunately I had been placed in the same squadron as McCree, but unfortunately it also contained Reyes.

"He didn't say that to everyone," McCree started, looking forward as he talked, "it was aimed at you. The other guys know not to cross Reyes and follow through." I turned towards Reyes who was talking with another operative.

 _Why does he think I'm going to go off plan? Is he treating me like shit to get me to perform his way or to disregard him?_ I wondered, looking now to assess the manpower for this mission. There had to have been at least 30 soldiers on this mission. _This much firepower for a group of hostiles? I've taken on whole terror organizations by myself…_

I was broken from thought as McCree patted my back and motioned towards the door. Reyes was standing there now, staring off into the distance outside. McCree and I approached Reyes, the latter grunting in recognition and commanding back to the pilot to meet back here on the call sign.

Some of the squadrons had already left to scout out our soon to be battlefield. Our trio was one of the last to depart from the carrier and head out. The sun was beginning to set over the spanning desert landscape. The air was still, only moving with the sounds of feet hitting sand. We walked for what seemed like an hour until a large figure rose along the horizon: the compound.

The sun had fully set when we confirmed our position. Night veiled the shifting sands as the wind began to pick up. I stood behind both Reyes and McCree who looked towards the structure. _This is fucking boring,_ I thought in annoyance. _We could just rush the place and get it over with._ The primal urges began to bubble up once more and the darkness of the night pulled me in every direction. I could see and sense the inners of the compound, and before I thought it over I slipped away into the shadows.

* * *

The air turned cold and crisp as I shadow walked inside of the building. I could sense several tens of individuals above me, as well as some scattered around me. Taking in the surrounding area, I noted that I was in some storage room. Cases of ammo, weaponry, and armor littered the entire room in every way; a single metal door was the only thing not meant for harm in this room. And great, it locked from the outside.

"This is a great place to start off in…" I muttered to myself, slight annoyance lacing each word. I had stepped quite a distance and a slight weariness was washing over me. As I continued looking through the room's content, the discovery of several heavy and destructive weapons and explosives created a wonderment of how stocked this hostile group was. Not many groups had anywhere near this kind of arsenal in my own experiences, and even if they did it was more for show than practicality. "Maybe this is why we needed a full team to fight them…"

Caught up in my own thought, I missed the life moving outside the room. Five beings positioned themselves alongside the door's walling, one standing close to the door possibly putting in a code. An inner alarm went off inside me before the metal door opened and I looked back before gunfire ripped through the air. I forced myself to meld into the shadows before appearing behind the firing squad. One caught sight of me as a flash of steel was sent in his direction, burying itself to the hilt in the soft part of his throat. As he gargled blood from his mouth, the other men turned and fired upon me again.

One screamed into a shoulder communication device in language I didn't understand. I've always had a connection to the word death and I could feel he said "Death has come." Not wanting to disappoint, I rushed the men and tried my best at deflecting the bullets. _Breathe and focus. Let your blade move as an extension of your arm and it will do what you desire it to._ I could hear Genji's words resonate over the gunfire. A few bullets hit my chest but the enforced leather and Kevlar stopped the impacts. Two more men fell – I'll give props to robot ninja boy when I get back for teaching me something useful – as I closed the distance and slide between the last two men standing, cutting the tendons of a leg each as I passed. Both fell to a kneeling position in pain, one receiving a swift smash of my heel against the back of his skull, crushing it inwards, and the other a precise hit to where the spine met the skull's base. Although neither of the two men were lucky, one was still alive. I stood over the now paralyzed man, a blade ghosting the surface of his chest. He didn't feel what I did to him, a small blessing, but he saw every excruciating detail.

My little torture subject met a sudden end as the blare of alarms blasted off of every wall. I could sense large scale movements of individuals before what seemed like every light in the entire compound was turned on. Senses now dulled from the brightness, I looked around for a stairway or elevator; that's where they would be coming from. I readied myself for the upcoming war.

* * *

"Commander Reyes! Do you read me?!" a frantic voice broke through Reyes's earpiece.

"I read you. What is it?" Reyes's replied, harshness and concern in his tone.

"The compound just initiated a lockdown! We intercepted an alert being broadcast throughout the facility. It says 'Death has Come'."

With that last line, Reyes turned to McCree before turning to see Zach nowhere in sight.

" _Pinche idiota…_ All squadrons, fuck the plan. Move in now!"

* * *

Having fought through several tens of men, who ended up being armed to the tooth and nail, the fatigue was starting to get to me. Wounds littered my body, from bullets to explosives, and I was beginning to regret throwing myself in here solo. My powers had been drained from maneuvering around best I could and avoiding possible traps. "What a shit show I've put myself into. But fuck the idea of the show ending with my death." I grumbled angrily, the anger either directed at myself or the men who kept throwing themselves at me. It didn't matter who I was angry with. Survival mattered.

The earpiece Reyes had given me was destroyed during a fight where one of the men landed a punch to my face. Although I don't think being able to hear Reyes or McCree curse me out would have helped my current situation. As I dragged myself along the bloodied hallways and rooms, I sensed a lot of life spread above me. Most likely it was a trap, but logic and reason were thrown away the moment I stepped in this compound alone.

Making my way upwards, I endured no opposition. Definitely a trap, but even though I could feel in my stomach something disastrous was going to happen, I trudged on. Eventually, I entered an area much more open than all the previous rooms. Life surrounded me but nothing was in sight. Then, from above, it hit me.

Actually, multiple rounds of gunfire and an explosion hit me. I tried to stand, my legs turning into searing fire at the notion. Stumbling onto my knees, the pain only increased as the rest of my body came to realize its current predicament as I coughed blood onto the floor. My whole body reared in agony while blood and sweat covered every inch of my skin. I could barely keep my eyes open as footsteps echoed along the floor. A hand roughly grabbed my hair and yanked up, putting me face to face with a man of disgusting proportions.

His face was putrid, and his breath even worse as he spoke the same language the man I tortured had earlier. I understood nothing he said, and barely heard any of it either as new pain flooded my senses. A knife was plunged into my chest and the man holding onto me laughed as he twisted the blade within me.

I screamed for the first time in a long time.

What happened next I don't really remember. The pain of the knife seemed to push my body over the edge and suddenly I felt nothing. My vision became dark and the taste of my own blood disappeared. The only sense I still had was hearing. The scream I let out began to morph into a sadistic, almost demonic screech. The man's voice changed from amusement to pure panic as the sound of glass shattering pierced the air like gunfire. Other voices rang out but soon fell silent as their bodies slumped to the ground, dull "thuds" clashing with the shrill glass. Then it all became silent except for the single man's incoherent rambling for what felt like an eternity. Without any rhyme or reason, the man's words became understandable as one last line escaped his lips.

" _You are truly Death's incarnate…!"_

A sickening laugh followed and a familiar voice replied back to him.

"I truly am."

Reports say Reyes and McCree found my unconscious body lying in a fatal pooling of my own blood, but somehow in a miracle I was still breathing. Emergency first aid was applied by a Blackwatch medic moments after. First aid was continuously applied for the entire duration until arriving back at base. Both McCree and Reyes rushed my body to the infirmary where Overwatch's doctor Angela Zeigler, codenamed Mercy, performed surgery and nanobiotic treatment for hours straight.

* * *

I awoke in a barely lit room, a bed firmly under me, and the only source of light in the room was a small bedside lamp. Even if the lamp wasn't on, I still would have noticed the two slumped in the chairs next to the bed. It wasn't a surprise that one was McCree, who was in one of them, his cowboy hat covering his face as he snored. However, to discover that Reyes was the other one was quite jarring. Reyes was sleeping soundly with his head atop his arms resting on the edge of the bed. He had ditched the beanie he often wore and his messy brown hair had freely fallen across his face. He looked softer than normal this way, and dare I say cute.

"Who would have thought we'd share a bed, Reyes…" I muttered quietly, my hand reaching towards him. He rustled slightly and buried his face into the crook of his arm as I gently laid my hand on his arm. "Heh, too bad you're going to kill me when you wake up. But for now, I'll enjoy your company…" I drifted into sleep soon after, the sound of Reyes's breathing and McCree's snores lulling me asleep.

* * *

I won't be defeated, not as long as he's beside me.


	9. Eight: Golden

Bask in the golden rays of light and one may be led to the unimaginable.

* * *

The next time I awoke the sun was shining through the room's single window. Rays of penetrating light bled through the simple blinds giving the white metallic walls a shimmer. A woman of average height with blonde hair put up in a high, messy ponytail stood by a counter. At the sounds of my rustling, she turned to show a slender face and stunning azure eyes; she couldn't have been older than mid-twenties. Her voice was soft and laced with a Swiss accent.

"How are you feeling, Zacharias? You are not in any pain now, are you?" the woman asked while moving to my bedside. She carried a clipboard stacked with papers I could only assume were about my health. "Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Dr. Ziegler, or some call me by my call sign, 'Mercy.' I patched you up when you were basically thrown into my arms a few days ago."

A few days ago? That didn't feel right. I had seen McCree and Reyes the last time I was awake, and I don't see either of them ditching their beds – or Reyes and his bad boy reputation – to sleep in uncomfortable chairs repeatedly. "How long have I been out?" I questioned outright.

"Three days," Ziegler replied. She began flipping through the clipboard's content, eventually stopping with a click of her tongue. "Now, before I get into the details of your injuries I have a few questions to ask you pertaining to your… How do I phrase it…?"

"How I'm not human?" I guessed. Mercy nodded in response.

"Yes, which is peculiar seeing as you act and appear human. I only recently was given copies of the research done to create you, shedding only a small amount of clarity on your case," she began, now flipping through the clipboard again. "I applied several different levels of nanobiotics to your body, which in most cases would regenerate and heal fatal wounds, only to have your body reject the procedure. As well, you never once bled between being found in the compound and now."

It made sense that despite the abrupt medical advancements of nanobiotics they might not work on a non-organic being; it's far beyond its time but it can't perform miracles. But the not bleeding part? That was unexpected even by my understanding of my body.

"Wait, so how did you heal me then, Doctor?" I questioned. "If the nanobiotics didn't work, what other procedure would you have at your disposal?"

Mercy looked up from the clipboard, a shadow of hesitation present in her eyes. She mulled over her thoughts as she went back to reading off the clipboard. After a moment she glanced away and spoke in a low voice.

"I couldn't heal you."

Those words were received as if they were shouted. I nervously sat up and began patting my body up and down to check if the injuries were still present. There were no anomalies, no evidence that my body had ever endured any wounds. I traced my chest along the area the knife had been plunged into; not even a scar resided. My eyes darted to Mercy questioningly, her face giving no answer. As moments passed with silence, Mercy flipped to another page on the clipboard and presented it.

"Reyes had reported that your powers were deeply connected to darkness. In a desperation attempt, I turned off all sources of light within the operation room," Mercy said weakly, her face filled with doubt. "There was no other option but to hope your powers would regenerate your body."

Mercy's words were solemn as if she had failed. "It seems like that did the trick though. You don't have to beat yourself up over it, Mercy," I started, attempting to pick her up out of the pit she had sank into.

"This time it worked. I don't know if it will work again, Zach," Mercy stated plainly, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "Try not to do something like that again…" She stared deeply into my eyes as she said that. I gave a nod and touched her hand with mine. A small, promising gesture.

Mercy smiled at my wordless agreement. "Thank you, Zach." She took the clipboard and flipped all the pages back over before nestling it against her chest. "Although I hate to do this to you now that you've just woken up from near death, but Jack demanded that he speak with you when you were awake."

"Golden boy wants to have a personal audience with me? Oh yay, sounds fantastic…" I groaned bitterly. I knew I was going to get my ass chewed out by the one and only Commander Jack Morrison himself, and frankly I didn't want that as my morning entertainment. Why couldn't McCree have been the first person I saw this morning…? Not that he wouldn't have torn me a new one either, but at least we could laugh afterwards.

A forced smile made its way onto Mercy's face. Obviously she knew that Jack didn't just want to "talk," as he had put it. Gathering various medical supplies and her clipboard, Mercy moved to the door that slid open. Although, she was stopped by the two bickering men outside.

* * *

"For fuck's sake, Jack, he's under my supervision! I should be the one grilling his sorry ass, not you! Blackwatch is my jurisdiction!"

"Yes, it is. But I oversee all Overwatch personnel, which includes Blackwatch agents. You know that, Reyes. Let me talk to him first, then you can do whatever you please."

The whistle that left my lips turned both of their heads; hell, even Mercy looked back at me. "Whatever he pleases? Shit! Hurry up then, golden boy! Don't want to keep him waiting; he has a little bit of an anger issue." I joked from my bed, now resting against the metal headboard. Morrison and Reyes exchanged glances while Mercy laid a hand on Reyes, beckoning him to leave. Reyes obliged, but not before sneering and sending a dirty look my way.

Jack watched the two walk away before he entered. He wore casual clothing, a t-shirt with the Overwatch symbol in the center and a pair of loose jeans. The shirt was loose, but it didn't hide his toned physique. His blonde hair was cut shorter than last time I had seen him and it had a light shine from the light that entered the room. Grabbing a chair from the wall, Morrison positioned it to face me directly.

"Do you feel better, Zach? Mercy had a scare trying to fix you up."

"You don't have to make small talk, Morrison." I said straightforward. "No point in beating around the bush. And to answer your question, I'm just dandy."

Jack looked at me slightly taken aback as if my words were unexpected (they kind of were honestly). He recomposed himself swiftly, looking into my eyes, any shred of casualness gone from his. Learning onto the bed, his face was mere inches away from mine. "What the _fuck_ did you think you were doing on that mission? Who do you honestly think you are? You could have died back there and possibly jeopardized the entire operation," Jack hissed lowly, although from the sound of it he was on the edge of shouting.

"Do you want the actual truth or the slightly less but still honest truth?"

"The former."

"The amount of manpower that was sent on that mission was unnecessary. That organization, although very well equipped, held no threat level that would require more than a squadron of ten," I began nonchalantly as if I were a master tactician. "As you can see, a single individual took down the entire compound by himself. I'm not patting myself on the back for my reckless behavior, _Commander_ , but shit you made it seem like they were comparable to battles during the fucking Omnic Crisis."

"Who do I think I am? It's simple, really. I'm a weaponized being built with hopes that I would be an undefeatable _monster._ There's not much else for me to do besides kill; shit, you know that and yet you let me live as long as I killed for you."

"And I trust in my own capabilities to hold their own against something as trivial as that mission. I wasn't - and for who know's how long I until I am - at the fullest extent of my powers. Next time, I won't be needing saving."

"In all honesty, Morrison, I think I'm ready to get back out on the battlefield," I finished, looking directly at him before facing away. "There's no need for me to be cooped up and for Overwatch to not utilize the monstrosity I was designed to be."

"Stop talking like that, god dammit! All you do is call yourself a monster! You're not just a fucking monster!" Jack snapped abruptly, springing up from his chair. His face flushed a light pink as he realized his actions. I stared at him distastefully, annoyed with his naivety.

"I'm not a just a monster, huh…?" I mocked gently. "What exactly am I then, Morrison? I've killed so many people because of twisted morals and ideas of justice, yet I'm not a monster to you? Please, share your reasoning."

"I didn't… I didn't mean to say that…" he stuttered, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I just meant… Forget it, Zach. I said it in anger; I wasn't thinking."

"Oh I'm not going to just 'forget it.' I've already accepted that I'm a monster, and here you are saying I'm not one. You wouldn't have bound me in agreement to do your Blackwatch dirty work if you didn't think I wasn't capable of killing without remorse on command. Otherwise, I would have been dead like all the other 'monsters' out there."

Jack kept his gaze on the floor, his shoulders slightly slumped as I talked. I had mostly spoken the words out of annoyance, but he seemed strongly affected by them and didn't say anything to try to disprove my argument. Was it all true then?

"Am I just another weapon in your belt, Morrison? Are you only caring about my well-being because if I die you lose an _irreplaceable killing machine_?" I questioned intrusively, stressing the last three words. As I said, no point in beating around the bush. He looked back up at me as the words left my mouth, his eyes despondent and brimming with tears.

My look of utter disbelief at the current state of Morrison caused him to give out a pitiful, small laugh. He turned his head away from me as I as I shifted my position to get closer to him. "Hey, shit… Dude - _Jack_ \- don't cry. A guy in your position can't be seen crying, especially to one of his own operatives! Come come, sit on the bed and let's talk about this maturely," I requested hesitantly; I really wasn't sure what to do in this situation. "I swear I won't make any shitty jokes or push your buttons anymore."

Jack moved from his seat onto the bed, his back facing me. His posture was still slumped, but at least he was willing to hear my small plea out. Eventually, as he composed himself, Jack began to dejectedly speak.

"I said what I said because I believed that if I took you in under Overwatch's wings you'd maybe think of yourself differently. We knew who you were before you found out about your true being; you were just a little kid with mountains of promise but a real fucked up lie of an upbring. You could have lived a posh and extensive life and been somewhat normal human being, but that door closed a long time ago. I honestly thought I could perhaps make you feel human again. Shit... For a while I thought you did with McCree, but I guess that wasn't enough…"

"I care about each and every one of the operatives in Overwatch. If any of them get hurt, I feel like it's my fault. Perhaps I didn't put enough emphasis on a certain skill, or perhaps I thought they were prepared but they weren't. When reports came in you were fatally injured on your first mission, I nearly lost my composure. This organization is my life, and I don't want anything bad to happen to any part of it."

"I left my family a long time ago to become a soldier. I wanted to show them that I wasn't just some farm boy from Indiana, that I was more than that. I never got to see them again before the Omnic Crisis turned rampant… But now, I feel like Overwatch is my family, and I don't want to overlook any moment or any person I have here."

As Jack confided to me, I couldn't help but notice how his mood seemed to lighten as he talked more and more. He probably hadn't shown anyone this side of him before. I felt sort of lucky to be the first to have this kind of connection with him. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my chin into his shoulder.

"Ya know, you're a lot more likeable when you're not being a stick in the mud, Jack. More people would probably understand your behavior if you explained what you just told me to the rest of the operatives. Hell, they might even like you too!" I teased, hoping to lift his mood further. Although he shifted a little at my invasion of his personal space, he did nothing to shake me off. Honestly, I don't think anyone had ever been so gentle with him like I was now.

"Maybe people would like you too if you acted like this too, Zach." Jack commented in turn, a snide grin widening across his face. Despite how cute he looked, the statement was just terrible. I turned my face into the crevice of his neck and groaned.

"I can't fucking believe you just said that… Everyone likes me if you didn't know." A hearty laugh left his lips as I brought my face back up to look at him. However, I didn't quite expect for his face to be turned in my direction. Up close, I could see the light golden stubble that adorned his chin and the drying trails of tears down his cheeks. God he was so close.

Now, most people would think that in a moment like this, the two parties would just awkwardly push off of each other and play it off like nothing happened. Right? Well, whatever alignment the stars were in right now said "Haha, fuck that!" My mind barely registered for the few seconds following that _Jack-fucking-Morrison_ , the world's own golden hero, had closed that small gap between us, gently placing his lips on my own.

 _Holy shit holy shit holy shit what do I do this has never happened before I am not prepared and I need an adult wait shit I am twenty I am an adult fuck what would a reasonable adult do?!_ I thought frantically, hoping maybe the panicked state my mind was currently in would offer a reasonable solution. _Fuck it, just kiss the damn man back you baby_ , was the only answer my brain could come up with.

And that's just what I did.

* * *

I relaxed and returned the affection, and for those few moments it felt heavenly. His lips were soft and the stubble he had danced against my skin. But well you see, good things only last so long. Just when I had gotten comfortable and closed my eyes, Jack decided to suddenly, and with a little too much force, push off and stand from the bed. I awkwardly almost toppled over off of the bed, Jack now staring at me with his face bright red.

"I… I shouldn't… No, _we_ shouldn't. It's not right and what happened never happened between us." Jack said as he stumbled through his words.

"What happened was pretty sloppy, so don't expect me to go blabbing about it. Was that your first time?"

"I-it was not!"

"Holy shit... How in the fucking hell did you accomplish never kissing someone looking like that, Jack?!"

"Maybe I just didn't feel that way towards anyone before…!"

I just stared bluntly at Jack for what felt like minutes at that statement. "Golden boy… You do realize what you just said, right? Please tell me you are not at all thinking straight and did not just say you like me..." Jack looked confusingly towards me before the realization hit him. Without delay, his face grew pale and then slightly flushed before he adamantly stomped out of the room with a frustrated huff, almost knocking McCree over in the process.

"You done talkin' to him…?" McCree called out but Jack had already disappeared around the corner. McCree shrugged as he entered the room, his brown eyes searching for an answer to a question he hadn't asked as I repositioned myself on the bed. "Looks like you're alive somehow, kid."

"And a mighty ol' _Howdy_ right back atcha, partner. Now, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're smitten for me if you're waiting outside my door. Hell McCree, we haven't even crossed a mountain yet."

"Oh sure, I'm definitely the one smitten for you. Now, why don't you tell me why Morrison decided to stampede his way out of here with his face all flustered. And, while you're at it, explain the little trail of saliva on the corner of your lip."

"I both hate and love you, McCree, you son of a fucking gun. Sit down and I'll tell you all about my amazing first hour after cheating death."

* * *

The golden giant's rays may be a beacon of the heavens, but one must be careful how close they come to its radiance; as Icarus accidentally discovered, one cannot get get too close to the sun's golden embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit sorry sorry sorry I just completely fell behind in writing and getting caught up in stupid games that I wasted so much time and never had a chance to write. I feel bad about not doing something that I wanted to do really bad but here I am; hindsight sucks. And, to top things off, I'm starting college classes next week so I'll be even more occupied with other things and won't be able to write. I'll do my best to get content out when I can, but I won't have a foreseeable update schedule or free time that I can give you. This chapter may feel rushed, may revise it when I get the chance as well, so if I do update it I'll send you guys back to re-read. Otherwise, I'll see you guys sometime, hopefully soon~


	10. Special Chapter 1: Christmas

Naughty or nice, good or bad, this day, one of good tidings, is for all to come together.

* * *

As the days had grown colder and the month of December had come and almost gone, the activity of Overwatch had grown inactive. There had been less missions, less training, less screaming at McCree and me for our tomfoolery. As an organization, we had collectively agreed without talking that as the month slowly frosted and thawed away we'd enjoy the silent falling of snow and the warmth of the inside. Instead of pouring alcohol, we poured hot chocolate. Instead of the heat of battle keeping us warm, we wrapped ourselves in blankets and terrible looking sweaters (don't get me started on McCree's…). If someone had walked in and looked at us, in all our cozy glory, it would be hard to tell we were the famous Overwatch.

I knew the month well, all the festivity and cheer that followed with it. My parents -if I can still really call them that- had always been there for the holidays. Monetary affection was a topic they knew well, and December held many occasions for them to show that. The house was decked room to room with holiday cheer, bright lights, ornaments, and little figurines , all dedicated to the wonderfulness of giving and glee.

Here, however, it was much less grand and extensive. Lena had insisted that she at least string a few lights around the facility, which Morrison had expressed every emotion but approval towards. She did it anyways, all while jingling the bells she had bought and attached to herself. Angela had swapped from her formal doctor garb to a sweater with several angels adorning it; very fitting, to say the least. McCree had made it his mission to get everyone to kiss him by attaching a mistletoe to his hat. That mission ended in horrendous failure when his first target was Reyes, who agreed to plant his fist on McCree's lips instead of his own. I laughed a little to hard at that, and I got a Reyes mistletoe special too.

* * *

Snow fell, and mischief rose. Genji, who had often sat outside to meditate, somehow stayed put even as the bite of the wind sharpened. McCree has suggested to take our aim and chuck snow at him in the name of festivity. With as much stealth as a brown fox in a winter white scene, McCree held his ball of snow.

"It's High Noo-" McCree began to utter as he got pelted with snow.

"You should watch your high ground," I said in his drawl before laughing alongside Lena. Although we hadn't met on the greatest of terms, we both could bond over the entertainment of someone else being hurt. McCree and Genji turned to witness our jolly laughter, and before I knew it we were under fire, or should I say ice? Snowballs flew passed with near deadly accuracy, McCree as close to perfect in aim with snow as he was with his revolver.

Lena looked to me, a quick whisper of "Let's split," and off she went. As she sprinted across the whitened training grounds, McCree took notice to her and drew his attention upon her. I moved to ambush, and as I got in position to blindside McCree. Taking aim, I began to arc my throw and a swift movement crossed my sight.

The packed snow flew from my hand, some falling gracefully back to the earth below, before meeting the cold edge of a blade. Genji stood before me, his posture set to deflect any more bombardment I may send towards his unlikely ally in this battle. I stood confused, staring on in disbelief.

"Did you just pull out a sword in a snowball fight…?"

Lena and McCree momentarily stopped to look back, concerned by my question. Genji glanced down to his blade before sheathing it away.

"I apologize. My actions were too serious for the occasion and I acted out of instinct."

"Oh! It's okay Genji!" Lena, who had more or so leapt behind him, exclaimed before smashing a snowball into the back of his head, "Just grab some snow next time!"

* * *

At some point, Reinhardt brought in a tree. None of us questioned exactly where the tree came from, but it wasn't of all that much importance. Lena was thrilled to see a tree, and dare I say she moved faster that ever before to begin decorating it. None of us questioned where she got the ornaments, either. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if they were pulling them out of the shadows. Maybe I should try…

"Zach! Hey bud, can you put this on the top of the tree?" Lena asked, holding a makeshift ornament in the shape of our symbol in her hands.

"Reinhardt is taller than me, get him to do it." I groaned.

"I'm a little tired, my friend. I lugged that tree all the way here!" Reinhardt replied, his heavy German accent mixing with his hearty voice.

"I've seen you bench press more than that tree probably weighs." His cheeky grin was all I needed in reply. Sighing, I grabbed the ornament and moved towards the tree. After a quick, futile attempt to lazily place it atop the tree, I stretched up on my toes. Although I may have gained momentary length, I lost a majority of my balance. The world felt tense as I hurriedly threw the ornament upwards as I fell backwards.

I said my prayers to whatever deities I still had any semblance of acknowledgement towards as I descended from the heavens. As the choirs of Lena's shoes scuffing against the floor in an attempt to catch me sang, an abrupt thud against a hard, firm unknown surface ended my fall. Who had answered my prayers? Had I lived such a disciplined past life that I carried over one favor? Who would I need to talk to next time?

The gruff, disdained voice all but told me who my select god would be.

"Can you not try to fuck up for one day, Muelbroek?"

"Would you say I fucked up if my plan was to get in your arms, Reyes?"

"Cállate, hijo ingrato…"

"Reyes, why are you still holding onto him…"

"Cállate!"

* * *

As the day of Christmas came, the crude tree of ours came to shelter several small presents, all adorning different names and levels of proper wrapping. The ornament made my Lena stood sideways upon the tree, semi-gracefully watching over the scene. Some other ornaments had been scattered around the tree as time had passed, lights making their way as well.

A few others had gathered around the tree as the early morning sun rose to greet this joyous day. I groggily greeted the few who had met the day - Jack, Lena, Angela, and Reinhardt- and I got a mixed reply of grunts and festive greetings. Lena handed me a cup of hot chocolate, a pleasant gift, and a thank you was given in response.

We sat around chatting as more and more awoke to gather around us. Eventually, all of us ended up sitting around our crude tree, exchanging wisecracks and general conversation. At some point, Reinhardt obtained a Santa hat and started talking, in his voice that matched his stature, about all the gifts he had brought for us. He grabbed one, and then another, and began to hand them out accordingly.

A new pair of running shoes for Lena. "Haha, this is my fourth pair this month…! Wonder how long these will last…"

A hairband that made it look like a halo hovered over the head for Angela. "What a wonderful gift! Thank you!"

New armor polish for Reinhardt ("Ah! My armor was getting a bit dull!"), a hat for McCree ("What's wrong with my current hat?"), a mug for Jack that read "Number One Dad" but with the "Dad" part scratched out ("What… is this?"). Genji didn't open his, saying he'd rather open it in private; we all just kind of laughed but we totally wanted to know what was in that box.

Reyes and I were the last ones to open our gifts. Mine had no indication of who it was from, but after opening it and discovering its content…

"McCree why in the world did you give me a 'How to Speak a Romantic Language: Spanish Edition'?" I asked loudly. McCree looked at me with a sly grin and an assurance he didn't get it, and while everyone was talking amongst themselves I whispered a soft "Thank you."

Reyes, who had waited to be last, for whatever reason, opened his with distrust after hearing what mine was. When the wrapping came off and the box opened up, Reyes lifted a lone mistletoe above his head.

"Should I even ask who this is from…?" He questioned, looking around the room at all its occupants. Most shook their heads, and as he looked to McCree and where I had been! he squinted at us in accusation.

Before he had time to react, I swiftly kissed him on the cheek from behind, the impact flaring outwards onto his cheeks. McCree was the first to let out his enjoyment of the action and reply, and everyone joined in, even Jack. I placed my hands on Reyes's shoulders and whispered in his ear:

"Am I that easy to read? Merry Christmas, Reyes."

* * *

Merry Christmas and Happy New Years~!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long...! I'm sorry, college slammed me like a truck and I never had time, but I kept this story in the back of my mind. I took time from when no one was paying attention to write this holiday special all throughout the day, so I apologize for any mistakes I made~
> 
> Also, I thought I'd let you know I'm thinking of rewriting the whole fic, as I recently read through it and wasn't all that happy with the progression and some key parts of the current storyline. I'll be looking to do that before break ends, and hopefully I won't get too occupied by life to write every now and then. This chapter will stay up after the rewrite, so don't worry. Anyways, hope to see you all soon and happy holidays!


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